A Series of Yuletide Events
by Sugary Snicket
Summary: A special Holiday collection of oneshots involving the ASOUE characters and the holidays. Just a little something to get you in a festive mood. Rated for a brief moment of swearing in a later chapter. Also this is my 30th fanfiction! Whoo!
1. Home for the Holidays

_Hello! ¡Hola! Salutations to you all, and welcome to a very special Holiday-themed story that I've written. This is here mainly to show how much I want to wish you all a Merry (Insert your celebrated Holiday here), and to show my adoring ASOUE fans that I'm not dead!_

_This story is actually a collection of one-shots, short little stories about the ASOUE characters during the holidays. Though we do not know what the Baudelaires, Count Olaf, or any of the other characters in the series celebrate, I'm going to go at it for Christmas, since that's what I celebrate and I do not really know enough about other winter holidays to write for them. I also felt that more people would understand it if I wrote for Christmas, and I am very dedicated to my fans, so even if I celebrated the Winter Solstice, Kwanzaa, or Hanukkah, I'd write for Christmas. Why? Because the majority of people identify with it._

_If you do not celebrate Christmas, or do not celebrate holidays at all, I still hope that you enjoy these short tales. The winter Holidays are a time of getting together with family to snuggle around the Christmas tree, menorah, fireplace, or television and just be together – and those are really the messages that I wanted to send. We'll follow the Baudelaires as they find out about family and what it means to them now that they have no parents. We'll take a peek at the Quagmires and Hector up in that ship and see how Isadora reacts when Duncan has no gift for her. Olaf and Esmé even have a story to themselves in which a little quarrel causes a few problems. And we'll check how Lemo- oops, sorry, I mean **L**!– is doing and find out how such a lonely and wronged man can ever find cheer in the Holidays._

_I sincerely hope that you enjoy these stories, no matter who you are, and no matter what your age. Because, like the Holidays, the themes presented in these short stories I have written are timeless._

_Happy Holidays and a very Happy New Year from your good pal, Sugary Snicket_

**_Dislaimer: I do not own "It's A Wonderful Life", ASOUE, or any of the characters therein. I am merely an amateur writer trying to eke out my niche in the world of fanfiction, as I have done for at least a year now. This story marks my thirtieth work published on (Yes, there were a few others, but I removed them because they were not getting any reviews, and they were not works that I was proud enough of to publish. They were, most notably, the Danny Phantom Play Series, along with some others.) Also, just as a little side note, I actually wrote this last year, but never got to publish it. That's why you will see now deceased or thought to be deceased characters alive again._**

**A Series of Yuletide Events: Story the First**

"**Home For the Holidays"**

Violet sat cross-legged on the cool cave floor, staring up at the glistening stalactites of ice that adorned the cavern, like spires of pure crystal or the teeth of some icy dragon that had swallowed her whole. A frigid wind blew outside, cold and unfeeling to her misery, occasionally blew through the cavern, effectively putting out the flames that Violet was so diligently working to create. What day was it? Sometime around the holidays, Violet figured. It had to be for there to be so much snow and ice.

A sudden qualm of shock sprinted through Violet, making her sit bolt upright in realization. The holidays! How could she have forgotten? No tree, no presents, not even a home to go to. What would her siblings say? Wouldn't they be disappointed?

Groaning in frustration, Violet returned to her work – the bit of heat that she was desperately trying to spark.

A sudden freezing gust blew into the cave, extinguishing the flames Violet had just created and dumping snow onto the small fire pit that she had dug, rendering it soggy, cold, and useless.

"Merry Christmas," Violet muttered bitterly.

"Merry Christmas, Violet!" Klaus' familiar voice called to her, snapping her out of her train of thought and startling her a bit.

"Oh," she said. "It's only you two. With everything that's happened lately, I half expected Count Olaf to be hiding in here." She sighed miserably. "Happy… sort-of-Holidays."

"Whamatta?" Sunny asked, toddling over to Violet.

"Nothing. I'm just kind of…" Here she paused to sigh and untie the ribbon from her hair. "I'm just sort of… I just don't think that we'll have much of a Christmas this year, that's all."

"Why?" Klaus asked. "I mean, we don't have a tree or anything, but does that really matter?"

"Yes."

"Oh, come on, Violet!"

"No, Klaus! You 'come on!' Look around you. We have nothing. We have no home, we have no parents, we have no family. We've lost everything."

Klaus closed his mouth for the moment, contemplating what Violet had said. How could they have let themselves become so hopeless? Oh yeah, Olaf was on their tail. That might be the problem…

Nonetheless, he tried his best to comfort her by placing a hand on her shoulder and speaking kindly to her.

"You sound like dad did last year. Remember? He wanted to get a really big tree for the parlor, but he never got around to it, and so he got one of those plastic ready-set trees."

"Of course I remember," Violet said with a wistful smile. "Mom never even knew the difference until she accidentally knocked it over. The next year, she insisted that we get a real one... but that next year never came."

The moment slowly began to sink back into gloom and despair again, and it would have stayed that way if Sunny hadn't suddenly yelled "Balconice!"

The three children laughed uncontrollably at this.

"Oh, yeah!" Violet said. "Remember that one year after you had just entered fifth grade, Klaus? The one where mom and dad couldn't take us sledding?"

"So we iced up the foyer steps," Klaus continued, "And we dragged out our toboggan from the attic and slid down that icy slope we made, and right out the front door and down that big hill that our house was on top of."

"And you fell off and broke your leg. Mom and dad weren't too happy about the stairs being an icy mess."

"That was not nearly so much fun as the initial ride," Klaus said, which prompted all three siblings to laugh again.

After their laughter fit, Klaus reached into his pocket and withdrew something from it, clutching his hand into a fist so as to hide it.

"I almost forgot," he said. "Here, Violet. This is for you." He opened his nearly frozen hands to reveal a small gleaming golden heart locket on a thin gold chain.

"Mom's locket," Violet said, astonished. "But… how did you… where did you…"

"I found it in the ruins of our house," Klaus said as he handed it to Violet to put on. "I figured that you might want it."

Violet blinked back tears of joy as she undid the tiny clasp and fastened the necklace about her neck.

"Thank you," she choked out. "But… why?"

Klaus smiled, and for a brief moment, Violet thought that she could see glistening tears welling in his eyes, too.

"Because we're a family, Violet," Klaus responded. "No matter how small, we're still a family. And families stick together and help each other."

"Love," Sunny added as she hugged her older sister.

"I love you too," Violet replied. Tears, warm and salty, ran down her cheeks, though she tried not to show it. "Both of you."

"Aren't you going to open it?" Klaus asked anxiously.

Violet undid the clasp and held the tiny golden heart in her hand. Gently, she opened it to find two small silhouettes, though she couldn't see them for her tears had blurred the images. But even then, she recognized the black inky blobs instantly.

"Mom," she forced out, "And dad."

Violet completely lost it, embracing her siblings and crying tears of joy, sorrow, and pain. It was so confusing, such a mix of emotions as this, but the confusion became clearer as her brother embraced her in a hug. Sunny, not wanting to be left out, toddled over to her siblings and wrapped her tiny arms about both of the older children before saying something completely unexpected.

"Merry Christmas, Violet. Welcome home."

_I'm so emotional. I almost cried while writing this. This particular story goes out to my father, who is an alcoholic. I only hope that he gets better soon, but in the meanwhile, he's a real jerk. And so, I dedicate this story to the man he once was – not the man he is now._

_Hopefully, you will all enjoy the next chapter. I hope that this story didn't cause too many PMS-angsty teenage girls to start crying for no good reason or many guys to disregard this story. I'll be seeing all of you guys later. PEACE OUT. _


	2. Silver Bells

_Thank you, everyone, for the fabulous reviews. That's what keeps me going, you know – it's what keeps all writers going. Hopefully you are having a wonderful Holiday season. I know I am! Unfortunately, my home state hasn't been experiencing much snow lately – an unfortunate consequence of global warming. See? This is why you recycle! Please people, if you really care, help our planet – don't litter or waste energy and electricity. So ends my public service announcement for the day._

* * *

**A Series of Yuletide Events**

"**Silver Bells"**

_This short story goes out to the Quagmire fans out there. I don't get much of a chance to write for them, since they're such minor characters and the ASOUE section of this site is nearly swamped with stories about them. I figured I'd try my hand at writing for our second favorite orphans (or first favorite, depending upon your view), just for kicks. Quigley is not in this story or any of the other stories for that matter, since this story centers around Isadora and Duncan's airborne Christmas follies aboard Hector's self-sustaining hot air mobile home. It begins with Duncan contemplating his life in his room one frigid Christmas Eve…_

Duncan Quagmire stared up at the twinkling night sky, reflecting on the way that he and his sister had escaped certain doom. He remembered it all so vividly: frantically scrambling up the flimsy rope ladder to safety, slowly floating away from his friends whom had been left stranded on the ground as the enraged mob closed in upon them, their desperate screaming…

And yet here he was, safe and sound some 10,000 feet above the earth, whilst the people who had been so kind to him were surely in imminent danger. And the worst part was that he felt responsible for it.

A tiny snowflake, silvery white and frail, fell upon the tip of his nose and melted there. Duncan sighed and shifted onto his side, doodling absentmindedly upon the floor of the basket with his finger. Why did Hector leave them? Why the Baudelaires? Why not him? In his heart he knew that they could not have reasonably climbed any further without being severely hurt or falling to their doom, Duncan still wished that he could somehow go back for them. He sighed again, then glanced upward at the calendar that Hector had so thoughtfully hung up for him.

There, upon the only square not X-ed out, was the number 24.

"Oh, my God," Duncan thought aloud, "It's Christmas Eve! I never even got around to making a card or anything for Isadora!"

Duncan sprung out of his cot and into the massive center basket of his airborne home, only to be greeted by shouts of "Merry Christmas!" from Isadora and Hector. Both were standing with their hands behind their backs and grinning from ear to ear. A small radio was playing Christmas music, and tinsel glinted off of every wall. Hector had even somehow managed to drag a massive Christmas tree up into the basket and decorate it.

Duncan grinned back and said "Merry Christmas to you, too. What are you two concealing behind your backs?"

"Your presents," Hector said, revealing his gift. "Here. It's a new commonplace book, since yours was wrecked by… you know." He handed Duncan the blank red book to look over.

"What about you, Izzy?" Duncan asked, trying to get a glimpse what his sister was hiding. "What did you get?"

Isadora pulled out a small scrap of paper with lots of words on it. "This," she said. "I wrote it for you." She handed it to Duncan, who intently began to read it.

_Snowflake_

_If a snowflake had a sound,_

_As it fell upon the ground,_

_I imagine one would hear_

_Silver tinkling bells so clear_

_As sparkling, frigid crystal lace_

_Softly dusts my hair and face_

_Quickly covering the ground_

_'Tis the greatest joy I've ever found_

_I wrote this snowflake poem for you,_

_I love my brother, yes I do._

_For Christmas is a time to share_

_As snowflakes hover in the air._

"That's beautiful, Isadora," Duncan said. "But I thought that you liked to write couplets."

"I do," Isadora admitted. "But I felt like changing my style for once. What, I can't change my writing style now?"

Duncan smiled briefly, then looked down sadly.

"What's wrong?"

"I feel guilty."

"Why?"

"Because," he said, "I never brought you guys anything."

"But you did bring something," Hector replied with a smile. "You brought yourself to us. What more of a gift could we ask for on Christmas Eve?"

Duncan gave him a small smile, feeling a bit better. Hector was right. Gifts were nice, but they didn't really matter when you were 10,000 feet in the air with silver stars above you and your own personal life-sized globe below you.

The song on the radio shifted and began to play "Carol of the Bells."

"Oh, I love this song!" Isadora exclaimed, dancing to the sweeping orchestral music. "You do remember the words, do you not?"

"Of course," Duncan said, his smile growing wider. "How could I ever forget?" He took a waltz-like stance and asked "May I have this dance?" Isadora laughed softly, offering her hand to him the way her mother had taught her to so long ago. The Quagmire triplets – the two present in the floating home, that is – watched the stars mix and spin as they themselves twirled and sung along to the music:

_Hark how the bells,_

_Sweet silver bells,_

_All seem to say,_

_Throw cares away…_

* * *

_I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope that you enjoy the many chapters to follow. "Carol of the Bells" just so happens to be my favorite Christmas carol of all time, just as "A Christmas Carol" is my favorite Holiday tale. Unfortunately, I could not accurately portray the story of the miser who has several encounters with the supernatural accurately with ASOUE characters, so it does not appear in this collection of stories. For those interested about my upcoming story explots, however, I am planning a Nightmare Before Christmas fanfiction that puts a ghoulish Halloween twist on the classic tale. And, sadly, my ASOUE idea well is starting to run dry. All the ideas that you see posted under my profile page for ASOUE will mostly be the last for a while. Indeed, I have much story idea clean-up to do._


	3. Merry Christmas, Darling

_Whoa! Sorry I was so late, everyone! I had some unfinished business to take care of, and my mom has limited my computer time, conveniently cutting out extra time to sit down and write. This means that I'll probably from now until who knows when be updating only on the weekends. I hope that you have enjoyed this story collaboration and other tales that I have written (I'm extremely proud of many of them) in the mean time._

_Ladies and Gentlemen, we have only one week until Christmas. You know what that means: Time to gather your family on cold, snowy evenings, pop in a favorite Christmas movie (One personal one of mine that is very near and dear to my heart is "The Muppet Christmas Carol"), and enjoy some popcorn together, with the Christmas tree standing in the corner, lights twinkling, in solitary glory. Of course, this holiday scene may differ from home to home and person to person, so there may be a menorah in your window, or there may be a black, red, and green – striped flag in your living room. Or, there may be nothing at all._

_The holidays are a festive time – let's celebrate the differences!_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own ASOUE, nor do I know the now deceased Count Olaf and Esmé Squalor. And they do not own me, thank Heavens.**_

_**WARNING: This chapter has some sexual innuendo near the end, and also has one brief moment of swearing. I recommend that those with weak stomachs for anything sexual involving Olaf leave this story right now.**_

* * *

**A Series of Yuletide Events**

**Merry Christmas, Darling**

_This story takes place, obviously, before book twelve. I actually wrote this story many years ago, after finishing book eight. It hit me then, like a snowball to the noggin, that since Olaf and Esmé made the perfect pair, they probably spent Christmas together, and may have even stopped going after the orphans' fortune during that time. (Yeah, right. They were probably still planning, anyway.) At first, I was going to do a "Christmas Carol" sort of thing, but when I realized that this would change his disposition too much, I decided against it. (There was also a story entitled "A Very Snicketty Christmas" that I read, which WAS about an orphan-loving, kinder Count Olaf being haunted on Christmas Eve, but in reverse – the ghosts were trying to make him mean instead of nice. Because of this, too, I reluctantly decided that not writing a story based on the Charles Dickens classic would be best.) However, since Olaf is the ultimate Scrooge, we can have a little fun on his behalf, can't we? Why shouldn't we cause problems with his relationship?_

* * *

_God, it's freezing. Yeah, perfect day for a walk. Nice idea, Olaf – take a walk in sub-zero temperatures to go to your girlfriends' house, all because it's Christmas Eve. I hate winter. Hate everything about it. Even more than those orphan brats. Snow. Who needs it?_

Olaf trudged miserably down the snow-laden sidewalk, clutching his coat with gloves hands and shivering violently. Snow blew fiercely into his face, stinging it with tiny slivers of cold. The wind howled past his ears, chilling them.

_Why didn't I wear a hat again? Oh yeah – because the only one we had was a disgusting shade of hot pink._

Olaf was in a serious love-hate relationship with Esmé right now – he loved her, pure and simple, but he hated that she lived so far away. His car, normally quite reliable, had broken down from a lack of available antifreeze to pour into its motor, and so he had ridden the bus to the nearest stop – only to have to walk five more blocks. And, being the pyrophiliac that he was, Olaf hated the cold.

Suddenly, something hard hit his arm and disintegrated against it. Olaf rapidly spun around in time to see two kids running and playing in the snowy street. One child tossed a snowball quite far, and, instead of hitting his friend, hit Olaf smack-dab in the face.

Annoyed and with a now well-chilled face, Olaf wiped the snow off and looked down to notice a child of about seven looking innocently up at him.

"Hey, mister," he said, wide eyes peering at the villain, "Sorry about hitting you with a snowball. I was trying to get David." He pointed a mitten over at a little boy trying to fix a hole in his snowfort.

Very annoyed, but willing to keep his temper for now, Olaf chuckled and picked up a chunk of ice.

"Well, then – what's your name?" he asked, sounding as kind as he could.

"Brian," the little boy replied.

"Nice to meet you, Brian. Do you know what I have in my hand right now?"

"A snowball?"

"No, actually it's a very heavy chunk of ice. Do you know what might happen if a very heavy chunk of ice hits someone?"

"No."

"They might get hurt, just like THIS!"

The sudden yelling startled the boy just enough so that he could run out of range of the now airborne chunk of ice. The ice hit the pavement and shattered, and both kids ran off screaming.

_Stupid kids,_ Olaf thought. _That'll teach them to mess with me._ He rounded a street corner and walked a bit further to Esmé's house. The doorknob was ice-cold to the touch, but Olaf grabbed it tightly and twisted it hard before slamming the door open.

As soon as Olaf entered, he could tell that 667 Dark Avenue was firmly wrapped up in the holiday spirit. A large tree loomed in the center by the spiral staircase, brilliant and elaborately decorated. A nativity scene was positioned in one corner; a large black, green, and red flag adorned another, and still another corner held a menorah with unlit candles, since Hanukkah had not yet started.

Olaf heard someone loudly squeal "_Darling!"_ before he was tackled to the ground and almost back out of the door. Esmé yanked him back to his feet and hugged him tightly before pulling back.

"Merry Christmas!" she squealed. "What do you think of my dress?"

_Uh-oh,_ Olaf thought. _She's asking me to evaluate another one of her horrid dresses! Think quick, Olaf, that's your strong point, think quick, quick, quick…_

He looked at the dress. It was striped red and green, and trimmed with golden tinsel. It had long-sleeves with red and white stripes, and she wore matching leg warmers, making her limbs looks like candy canes. Her shoes were a light shade of green and had plastic holly sprigs on them. Esmé had even gone so far as to paint her nails red and green as well!

"Uh, well…" Olaf stammered. "It's lovely." _Well, it's better than most of here dresses, at least._

"I knew you'd love it!" Esmé yelled. "The Holidays are in this year," she said nonchalantly, leading him to the elevators. "Staircases are dreadfully out, especially spiral ones. Elevators just came back into fashion, though, so we have a way upstairs still."

"Good thing, too," Olaf said to himself.

* * *

The large main room, normally very extravagant, was now even more so with the approaching of the Holidays. Tinsel hung from every possible area, and strings of lights twinkled brilliantly along the walls. Another nativity scene had been set up near a large Christmas tree, very finely decorated with various ornaments, lights, garlands, and a large eight-pointed star to top everything off. The main fireplace was aglow with spectacular flames. Several gifts, each wrapped in shiny paper and gauzy ribbon, had been set beneath the tree.

"Sit down," Esmé said, motioning to a large couch directly in front of the fireplace. "There are many things that we need to discuss."

"Like what?" Olaf asked. "Does it have anything to do with the sugar bowl?"

"No, it doesn't," Esmé replied, a frown forming on her face. "It's about… us."

"About us? What do you mean? Is there another man?"

"No, it's just…"

"Are you leaving me?"

"No! I love you!"

"Then what's the problem?"

"I… I'm…" The words tripped in her mouth, her throat closed up, her mouth felt dry. How could she tell him?

"Are you hurt?"

"No, Olaf. No. I'm pregnant."

Olaf pulled back a moment, stunned.

"But… Esmé… how did you…"

"I felt sick. I went to the doctor for a check-up, and he told me that I was already six weeks in." Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks and staining her dress. "Olaf, what do I do? I don't know how to raise a child, I hate children!"

Olaf was not happy about the news. There was no way he was going to father some crying, tiny creature. It was just not him. But he couldn't leave Esmé. She needed him.

"Esmé, I… I don't know what to do. I… I can't."

"But you're the father, Olaf!" She cried. "Please don't leave me, I can't do this by myself!"

"Esmé… I can't!"

Esmé began to wail miserably, burying her head in the couch's pillow and weeping as if she had been told that she was going to be executed that very night. Olaf reached over to touch her arm and reassure her, but Esmé brushed away his hand and mumbled something into the pillow.

"I do so love you!" Olaf cried.

Esmé mumbled something else into her pillow.

"I didn't say that I was going to leave you if you got pregnant! I said that I couldn't be a father!"

Another mumble.

"I'm responsible?" - here he scoffed – "For what? It's not my fault!"

Esmé whimpered sullenly before launching into more sobbing.

"Screw this," he said. "I'm leaving. I know that you hate this as much as I do. I wouldn't have even walked here in twenty degree below zero if it weren't for you!"

Esmé glanced up, tears streaking her face.

"You really don't get it, do you? You don't know how far I would go for you. You don't know how strong I would be for you." Olaf opened the door, shaking his head furiously.

"Goddammit, Esmé, I did this because I care about you. I came here because I love you. And if you can't acknowledge that, then I'm leaving."

The door slammed, and Esmé sat up, wiping tears from her face.

The door opened again.

"Esmé, I…"

"It's okay. Come sit down."

Olaf sat down, looking upon his girlfriend and allowing himself a small smile.

"I'm the father, then?"

"You are."

"Is the doctor sure about that?"

"From his test results, he is. He apparently thinks that you raped me or something."

"Me? Rape you? You were the more aggressive one."

"You were on top."

Olaf smiled a little wider, and, reaching into his pocket, withdrew a small box wrapped in brown paper.

"Merry Christmas, Esmé," he said, handing it to her.

She opened the present to reveal a small black box.

"Open it," Olaf urged.

Esmé opened it, revealing a thin gold band adorned with a silver eye. The pupil inside was afire with a tiny diamond. Esmé smiled as she slipped it onto her finger, then noticed that there were two slots in the box. Confused, she looked at her boyfriend.

Olaf smiled and pulled off his right glove to reveal a slightly more masculine, but still matching, band.

"Once again," he said as he leaned over to kiss her, "Merry Christmas."

* * *

_Yeah… That chapter may have been a tad too sexual… Uh… next time it won't be so risqué, because the next chapter has to do with our favorite depressed spy/author, Lemony Snicket. Also, I have hidden a VFD-ism in this short story. See if you can find it! You won't win anything, but you will get kudos from me!_

_Happy Holidays, everyone, and check back soon – the next chapter might be sooner than you think._


	4. Ashes to Ashes

_Whoo! Sorry for the long hiatus people, but I had some stuff that I needed to finish. I'm back, now, and I'm just about ready to send this fanfiction to the realm of finished-ness. I had to cut the "Wonderful Life" spin-off, since Christmas is only two days away (I'm not sure that it's even two!) and I can't add Christmas stuff to my stories after the holidays – it looks cheesy. Perhaps next year the "Wonderful Life" tale will make it to the internet – but not this year._

_Also beginning to end is the Myst/Know Your Stars crossover I've put on hold until after the holiday rush. The next chapter will be up shortly, and I should have it done by the time 2006 is finished and 2007 begins. Which means that the Myst fans who enjoy fanfiction shall be very happy, indeed._ :)_ Meanwhile, to all of you ASOUE fans out there, a very Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, or Happy Winter Solstice to you. May your Holidays and New Year be bright and happy, whoever and wherever you are._

_This final short story is quite short and sweet – not much of a plot, but it involves Lemony recieving a note from his sister (when I wrote this, Kit was still living) and contemplating how he can enjoy the holidays when he is miles apart from his remaining family. Please enjoy the final part of this short-story collection._

* * *

**A Series of Yuletide Events:**

**Ashes to Ashes**

Lemony walked slowly over ash-tainted layers of snow, absorbing the entire frosty white and ashen grey scene that lay before him. The charred remains of the VFD Headquarters were soaked from melted snow, blackening the surrounding areas and making the world look like an old black and white film. And Lemony was the only colorful thing, the only living thing there.

It saddened him now to see the once shimmering headquarters now forever lost to the world – that was why he had to continue his work. Not for the few – oh, he hoped it was few! – reading his accounts of the Baudelaire orphans' travels, and not for his own curiosity, though that was a part of it, but for the remaining people in the world who were not wicked, or at least not entirely. He was almost like a role model (though he hoped that nobody had to suffer what he did), albeit one who was not perfect.

Did the just have to be perfect? Did the wicked?

Lemony shook this from his thoughts and continued working on his notes, a difficult task in thirty mile-per-hour wind and freezing, blinding snow thicker than any fog could ever hope to be. Fortunately, Lemony had remembered to bring snowshoes. Unfortunately, he had not brought a scarf, hat, or earmuffs, and so he would have to be careful to prevent the cold from turning Lemony Snicket into Lemony IcePop.

Suddenly, something caught his eye, a brief flutter of black struggling against the cruel ferocity of the snowy gales. Confused for the moment, Lemony stopped moving and watched the black speck slowly grow into a recognizable shape – that of a bird. It let out a single sharp caw and landed in the white, fluffy snow covering the earth, flopping and struggling to find solid ground.

Lemony picked up the small black crow and brush the snow off of a nearby rock. Gently, he placed the bird onto the rock, where it gave another raucous cry and picked up a small scroll that had been rolled around its left leg. Lemony took the Volunteer Factual Dispatch and read it intently.

_Dear L,_

_I am terribly sorry that I couldn't make it to the Christmas dinner this year, but the mission I was sent to complete has forced me to continue my travels. I have successfully dispatched V, K, and S at the Hotel Denouement, but a few days later I noticed a suspicious cloud of smoke and concluded that things have not been going well at all. I suspect that O and E had a part in this. I do not know where O, E, V, K, and S are now, but I am making diligent attempts to find them. I've backtracked their entire route from O's home to Hotel Denouement, but not a scrap of evidence about their whereabouts has shown up. I am just about to set sail to see if they're on the seas somewhere. I hope things are going well for you; I miss you terribly._

_Your loving sister,_

_K.S._

_PS: I left something behind for you. Sort of my way of saying thanks for your hard work. Look for it near the Headquarters under the tallest tree with bowed branches. Happy Holidays!_

A bit confused by the last part, Lemony looked up at the tree he was standing near. It was very tall and a bit scraggly from having to face so much wind, and its branches were weighted down with snow. He brushed the snow aside and lifted the branches, revealing a small, inconspicuous package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Gingerly, Lemony lifted the parcel and withdrew his jackknife. He cut the string and unwrapped the box, revealing a plain cardboard box, which he opened.

Inside, carefully packed in foam peanuts, was a small framed photo of himself and Beatrice together. The two were laughing, happily standing in front of the Interesting Ice Cream Shoppe, chocolate syrup smeared around their mouths.

Lemony smiled, the first time he had done so in years, then noticed another scroll, carefully buried beneath the Styrofoam S's and 8's. Carefully, he unrolled and read it.

_Happy Holidays, Lemony. Hope you enjoy the gift. Love, Kit._

The words began to swim on the paper as clear, warm tears welled in Lemony's eyes.

"Oh, Kit," he whispered softly. "I love you, too."

Lemony, kneeling in the frigid snow, embraced the photograph, quietly crying tears of joy for the first time.

* * *

_Awww. Feel-good story! Hope that made everyone feel warm and fuzzy. Hope that everyone has a great holiday season, and until next time, I'll be seeing you on the other side. _;) 


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